


After The Baseball Game

by benfic



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: (do not read if you do not want your feelings gently caressed), (this is aesthetic-based and very soft), Fluff, M/M, Purple Prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 21:04:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15104852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benfic/pseuds/benfic
Summary: (...a three-part mini opera.)I see a lot of speculation over how Marvin and Whizzer got back together, and how soon or late it happened, and I figured I may as well write my own thoughts. Set likely a couple weeks after the baseball game, when Whizzer agrees to come back to Marvin's apartment, knowing roughly what will end up happening but worrying all the same.(Mature rating for a sex scene that doesn't pretend to be something other than what it is, but doesn't get too involved in the details, either.)





	1. before

Marvin made spaghetti. Whizzer looked at it, knowing full well it had been purchased and microwaved and doused in cheap sauce, and he found himself thinking that it tasted fine all the same. It was easier to look at the pasta than at Marvin, who was shifting, putting one hand and then another on the table, taking both off, looking at Whizzer and then at the food and then at the cutlery, walls, ceiling, table, little framed photos on the wall Whizzer wouldn’t have expected Marvin to keep. The spaces around them were speckled with holes; Whizzer could imagine Marvin taking them down, putting them back up, reconsidering.

 

Whizzer looked up again, catching Marvin’s eye this time, and he held his gaze, said something about how the food was good. Marvin cracked half a happy grin; something too soft to start an argument but too full of stupid selfish pride to not be Marvin’s. Whizzer twirled his fork, catching himself dissecting Marvin again; what was he  _ doing?  _ Was this what he had waited for? Was this why he had agreed to come back, return to Marvin’s apartment? And yet dinner didn’t feel like a pretense, either; Whizzer had known that ‘dinner’ with Marvin could mean anything from a night out to just tearing off his shirt the moment he got back in the door, and he’d accepted anyway, fearing either one of them would lose the control to keep this from becoming what it had been before.

 

Marvin reached out, suddenly, with the same intensity as every other time he’d taken a chance, and he took Whizzer’s hand. Whizzer took a sip of wine, pretending not to notice, and found he was out of practice-- Marvin’s little smile grew wider.


	2. during

It was like playing a game, at first, like playing little roles; pretending they didn’t know what they were doing or what they liked. Asking if this was alright or tentatively shifting closer, further away.  As if maybe they would have accidentally become different people, in the time apart, and Whizzer wouldn’t be as oddly cold-skinned or Marvin wouldn’t suddenly reposition his hold on Whizzer’s neck like there was some chance of falling. Whizzer let him, and halfway through even decided  _ fuck it, what does it matter  _ and started actually letting himself enjoy it, focusing less on everywhere his hands should be and what his voice should sound like and more on  _ marvin, marvin, marvin-- _

 

and he found himself saying it out loud, too--

 

_ “Marvin, Marvin, Marvin--” _

 

“It’s me,” Marvin panted, and Whizzer laughed so hard he had to grab hold of Marvin’s arm. Marvin grinned, tracing Whizzer’s face with one hand and keeping the other spread flat on the bed, where every so often Whizzer’s floating hair would brush against Marvin’s fingers. Whizzer giggled softly, and Marvin followed his example, and little by little it became more of that and less of everything else and Marvin collapsed on Whizzer, sweaty and warm, and Whizzer held onto him for a long moment in which he didn’t have to worry about letting go.

 


	3. after

“Do you remember,” Marvin asked, “when you first met Jason?”

 

Whizzer had forgotten about Marvin being the king of post-sex conversations. He closed his eyes, feeling the covers under him. Expensive, definitely.

 

“Yes,” he said. He remembered it exactly: the way Jason had sized him up, how Whizzer had suddenly found himself wondering whether he looked more or less like what this boy had expected.  _ I’m no chicken,  _ he’d wanted to say. Instead he’d starting thinking if that was the kind of man Marvin usually brought home, and he’d realized how little he knew and how much he was getting into, and then Jason had said  _ hi, whizzer,  _ and that had been all. It had seemed alright after that.

 

Marvin remembered only feeling cold, and nervous, and wondering if he only did this for the brief adrenaline spike before Jason’s face would close over and he would look again like he was looking for another father in the other room. He had been half confused, half surprised when it hadn’t happened.

 

“That’s when I knew,” Marvin said, and Whizzer leaned over. 

 

“Knew what?” 

 

“That you’d come back.”

 

“I hadn’t  _ gone  _ yet.”

 

“Still,” Marvin said, letting the implication hang in the air over his mouth. Yes, he had known. Had expected it to end eventually like everything else-- marriage, fatherhood, his damned psychiatry sessions. He had been waiting, in a way, for it to end, to see if Whizzer would really return.

 

Whizzer looked at Marvin, saw the words hanging, and understood. He let out a long breath, looking back up at the ceiling.   
  


“So what’s next?” he asked, and Marvin took his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @officialwhizzer on tumblr for drawing the [art](https://officialwhizzer.tumblr.com/post/169335285098/morning-after-the-baseball-game) that inspired me to write this! I genuinely think about this piece about once a week now; sometimes I'm just lying in bed and I think about how soft and sweet the art is, and all the implications... and I also disagree politely that they got back together directly after the baseball game, but I figured I couldn't very well say that without... y'know... writing it out. I can certainly imagine Marvin methodically placing hickeys on Whizzer's neck between 'during' and 'after'...


End file.
